


Something new

by Havokftw



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Cute, First Meetings, Fluff, Just Add Kittens, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 07:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18191321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havokftw/pseuds/Havokftw
Summary: “I’m Choi Seungcheol. I live in--”“106—yeah I know.” Jihoon interjects.I watch you wash dishes shirtless—he carefully doesn’t say.





	Something new

Jihoon’s pretty sure the guy who rented his apartment before he moved in was some kind of drug dealer. Or loan shark. Or a member of some terrifying biker gang, because the number of times he's answered his front door to find a black leather wearing biker thug hovering outside, is getting ridiculous.

“Look, before you start threatening me—I’m not Yoon Jeonghan. He moved out over a year ago, and before you ask—no, I don’t have a forwarding address for him. I’ve been dumping his mail in the trash. Now, please leave me alone.” Jihoon says, before realizing that:

  1. The black leather wearing biker thug is holding a kitten.
  2. He does actually recognize him.



The man that is, _not_ the kitten.

The man being the tenant of apartment 106, who wakes Jihoon up every morning when he revs his bike engine, flicks his still lit cigarette butts out the window instead of grinding them out in an ashtray (honestly, it’s a fire hazard) and likes to leave his kitchen window open and wash dishes with his shirt off.

Not that Jihoon makes a habit of peeking in his neighbours’ windows or anything—definitely not. He just happened to pass by now and then, while taking the trash out—and the man just _happened_ to be shirtless.

“No—I just—” his neighbour stammers, raking a hand through his dark hair, succeeding in making it stick up and frizz with winter static. The kitten—a round little grey and white tabby thing, tucked into the crook of his elbow—mewls pitifully. “I’m really sorry about this, but my bike’s in the shop getting fixed, and this little guy’s badly injured his paw—”

Then he just sort of _trails_ off.

Jihoon stares at him, blankly until his sleep-addled brain fills in the blanks. Since his brain to mouth filter leaves something to be desired, Jihoon automatically finds himself saying, “Are you even allowed to keep pets in this building?”

“Sorry,” his neighbour starts backing off immediately. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, I just thought maybe you—never mind. Sorry.”

The _smart_ thing to do would be to close the door and let him go on his way, but Jihoon isn’t particularly smart before nine in the morning and a strong cup of coffee flavoured jet fuel.

“Wait—hold on,” he calls, watching as his neighbour skids to a wary halt on the filthy hallway rug. “You just—what? Need a ride somewhere, is that it?”

“Yeah, to the veterinary clinic in town. I already called ahead, they’re expecting me.”

Jihoon sighs, scrubbing a hand across his forehead. “Yeah, alright. Just let me get dressed.”

“Oh God, thank you,” his neighbour breathes, shakily, turning on his heel and practically running back to Jihoon’s door. “Thank you. I mean it—thank you so much. I owe you one.”

“Yeah, sure. Come in,” Jihoon mutters, motioning him through the door. “I just need to get changed,”

“Thanks,” his neighbour says again, as Jihoon ducks into the bedroom, scouring for something presentable to wear.

This really isn’t not how he wanted to spend his Saturday, but he’s always been a bit defenceless against a handsome face. And the tenant in 106 is ….. _well_. He’s tall, broad-shouldered and swelteringly hot—If you were into tattoos and porn lips, which Jihoon will adamantly insist he isn't.

"Don't even think about it," he tells his reflection sternly as he works the buttons on his shirt. “You’re just giving him a ride—no, no. Do _not_ phrase it like that. You're giving him a _lift_ to the clinic. That’s all.”

“Uhh, hey?" his neighbour calls from the front entrance. "Sorry—but—do you have some paper towels? This little guy's just been sick on me."

Jihoon frowns, finishing with the zipper on his pants, and cuts through the kitchen on his way back to where his neighbour now stands with kitten vomit over the sleeve of his black leather jacket.

"He's not going to do that in my car, is he?" Jihoon grumbles. _(Seriously—could you just try and be more sympathetic?)_

His neighbour sighs, wiping kitten bile from his sleeve. Jihoon gingerly accepts the soiled paper towel with thumb and forefinger. "He won't, he absolutely won't. I guess he’s just in pain and it’s making him nauseous or something. But I promise, if he’s sick again I’ll make sure he does it on me and not your car."

Jihoon is sceptical, but already committed, obviously. Resigned to a future of cat vomit smell in his car, and probably worse, they head downstairs to his car.

“I didn’t introduce myself,” his neighbour says, as Jihoon cranks up the heat and cranks down the radio, so as not to distress his tiny feline passenger. “I’m Choi Seungcheol. I live in--”

“106—yeah I know.” Jihoon interjects. _I watch you wash dishes shirtless_ —he carefully doesn’t say.

“I’m Jihoon. _Lee_ Jihoon. Does your little _friend_ there have a name?”

“Ah, well...not yet,” Seungcheol mutters, stroking the kitten’s back with one gloved hand. “He doesn’t actually belong to me. I was just taking out the trash when I heard him mewl from behind a dumpster. When the mewling wouldn’t stop, I went to investigate and found him lying there in a dirty old box. Someone must have abandoned him there after he got injured—probably to avoid costly vet bills.”

“Yeah—" Jihoon mutters, sparing a glance at the sorry looking lump of matted fur in the man’s hands. “He does look in pretty bad shape. He might have to be put down,”

When Seungcheol’s face falls, Jihoon winces and immediately backtracks. “Sorry. That was an awful thing for me to say. I’m sure he’ll be fine,” At some point, it might be wise of him to learn not to be a  _complete_   _dick_ in the company of strangers.

“It’s alright,” Seungcheol responds, scratching between the kitten’s little ears as it mewls. “You’re probably right—I just didn’t want to leave him there, yanno. I wanted to try and help.”

Jihoon offers him a warm smile. "That-that's really good of you."

* * *

The vet’s office is apparently the ‘place to be’ on a Saturday morning, already a hive of activity, packed with patients waiting to be seen. Jihoon sits, somewhat reluctantly, next to an elderly woman shepherding an immaculately groomed poodle, and waits for Seungcheol to give his information to the receptionist.

There is also a young man sitting across from him trying to juggle a toddler and a yowling puppy in a plastic carrier, and a heavily tattooed man with something Jihoon at first thinks is a rat on his shoulder, but belatedly realizes is actually a possum.

Wow, shit—people _actually_ keep those as pets?

Eventually, Seungcheol returns and claims the seat next to him.

“They’ll call me when it’s my turn,” he says, resting the kitten on his arm, “You don’t—that is, I’m grateful for the ride, but you don’t have to wait for me. This might take a while.”

“And how are you proposing to get back home if I don’t wait for you, hmm?” Jihoon asks.

Seungcheol shrugs affably, “I’m happy to walk. It's-it's not that far really, and I’m sure you’ve got better things to do with your Saturday morning.”

He seems genuinely happy to do just that. Genuine enough that Jihoon shouldn’t feel guilty about deserting him here with his ridiculously sincere smile and his injured stray kitten. But contrary to popular belief, Jihoon is not actually made of stone.

“It’s fine, really.” He waves Seungcheol off. “I can spare a few hours—though I do wish I’d thought ahead and brought some papers to grade.”

Seungcheol quirks a surprised eyebrow at him, “You’re a teacher?”

Jihoon hesitates briefly. The way Seungcheol is looking at him, eyes warm with interest, gives him an unwarranted flutter in his stomach.

“Yeah,” He smiles, quickly dropping his gaze. “I teach music theory at the Arts college, and I give private lessons on the side too.”

“Piano?” Seungcheol says.

“ _Yeah_ —” Jihoon says slowly, blinking in surprise. He makes the mistake of meeting Seungcheol eyes again, dark and bright and intently focused. Seungcheol licks his lips. His  _porn lips_. That Jihoon absolutely has no weakness for. At all. “Yeah, I teach piano. How’d you know?”

Seungcheol’s shoulders rise and then fall, something like a shrug. “Just a guess. You’ve got pianists fingers. They’re very pre—” He stops to cough and clear his throat awkwardly. “ _Elegant_.”

There's an awkward silence. Jihoon finds himself searching for something,  _anything_  vaguely intelligent to say, but there's something about Seungcheol, the way he’s looking at him (possibly also the way he’s holding a kitten so fucking tenderly), that makes all the words fly out of his head without a trace.

Seungcheol, bless him, decides to help him.

“I thought about being a teacher once,” He says, fingers idly stroking down the length of the kitten’s back. He had very nice hands himself, Jihoon observes—big, strong hands that could open every stubborn jar in Jihoon’s pantry without trying. Though he is very gentle with the kitten, almost timid. “But Uni was never an option for me. I imagine it’s very challenging, but very rewarding too—teaching people that is.”

Jihoon smiles, and although Seungcheol hasn’t asked him a direct question, he says, “Oh, yeah, absolutely. I think I’m quite lucky actually, I teach a subject people only pursue if they have a genuine interest in it, so the results are very rewarding.”

He waits for Seungcheol to tell him what _he_ does for a living, but instead, Seungcheol turns his gaze back towards the kitten in his arms with a nod.

“May I ask, what it is _you_ do?” Jihoon prompts after another short silence.

It’s clearly a question Seungcheol’s not comfortable about answering, because his mouth is a thin line, eyes gone narrow, and dark, and Jihoon gets the impression he's thinking about his answer very carefully. “I’m uh—between jobs at the moment. I decided a change of career was in order, and I haven’t quite decided what I want to do next.”

Jihoon nods, considering Seungcheol’s words. He can’t resist prodding further, “What did you _used_ to do?”

“I was, uhm, a delivery driver.” Seungcheol admits, stiffly.

That sounds like a pretty normal career choice, but coming from Seungcheol it sounds almost guilty—no it’s _definitely_ guilty.

Jihoon suspects ‘delivery driver’ is a deliberately simplified, mundane way of describing something _else_. Something not entirely _legal_.

He could be wrong of course, but it's hard not to try and read Seungcheol, to try and turn all the twitches and tension into evidence. 

“What made you decide to pursue something else?” Jihoon finds himself asking before he can think better of it.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows draw down. “I had an accident,” He lifts a hand to massage his knee—then stretches that leg out, like it’s bothering him. “Getting injured really put things into perspective and made me realise I wanted a….. _quieter life.”_

Now Jihoon’s almost certain that Seungcheol was not a ‘delivery driver’ at all.

For one, he can’t imagine him wearing a Fed-Ex uniform and two, his right eyebrow is bisected by a thick scar that stretches half-way up his forehead. The skin has knitted cleanly, but it must have hurt like a bitch once.

The part of Jihoon that is relentlessly curious—too curious for his own good—wants to ask Seungcheol where he got it, but he’s interrupted when the elderly woman’s poodle pees on his shoe.

“Oh—I’m so sorry. Duchess! Naughty dog, ruining this nice man’s shoe!” the woman scolds, as Jihoon hisses curses and hobbles to the washroom.

By the time he had manages to get the worst of the mess off his shoe and returns to the waiting room, Seungcheol is gone. Jihoon takes a seat well away from the poodle this time, and Seungcheol returns a few minutes later, without the kitten, looking panicked and slightly grey in the face.

Jihoon feels his stomach drop. “What’s wrong?”

Seungcheol sits down, heavily, a hand pushing his hair back, ruffling the dark curls before pressing to the back of his neck. “They’re—uhm—they’re worried about some infection and things. Need to draw some blood, maybe treat him for dehydration. I’m supposed to just  _wait_.”

Jihoon reaches out, and gives Seungcheol’s shoulder what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure they’ll take good care of him. It  _is_  their job, after all.”

Thus begins what seems like an eternity of waiting.

Truth be told, Jihoon isn’t a cat person. He doesn’t even like cats, but even _he’s_ starting to worry about the kitten.

People and their pets file in and out of the room at what Jihoon considers to be a fairly good clip, though the same number of chairs always seems to be occupied in the waiting room. Jihoon amuses himself briefly with an awful trashy magazine, while Seungcheol fusses with his phone, texting back and forth with someone—his parole officer, Jihoon supposes. 

_Or maybe a girlfriend?_

_Of course, he has a girlfriend you idiot._

_She probably has porn lips too._

Eventually, a young, spritely woman in scrubs appears in the door of one of the exam rooms and calls out, “Mr Choi? Doctor Jisoo is ready to see you.”

Seungcheol exchanges a uncertain smile with Jihoon, then lifts himself stiffly out of his chair and heads for the exam room.

He’s gone only a few minutes, and returns looking shaky, but relieved.

“He just needed a few stitches on his paw and there’s a minor infection to treat,” he says, almost laughing. “Nothing too serious. The vet said he just needs a warm bed and some antibiotics and he’ll be fine.”

Jihoon feels the immeasurable relief crashing unto him and realizes he was genuinely worried about the kitten’s welfare. Or maybe about how _crushed_ Seungcheol would have been had it not been okay.

“That’s great news,” Jihoon stands, stretching out a kink in his lower back. “Nothing to worry about after all.”

“Yep, nothing to worry about,” Seungcheol agrees, gracing Jihoon with an unfairly lovely smile in the process.

There is still the matter of the vet’s bill, of course; Jihoon decides that he very much does not want to know the details of that transaction, so he lingers off to the side while Seungcheol takes care of it. Seungcheol is still receiving instructions on administering the kitten’s medication when the vet’s assistant comes out through the door marked ‘ _staff only’_  with the kitten cradled lovingly in her arms.

“Here we are,” she announces, cheerfully, moving to pass the quietly squirming bundle into Jihoon’s arms. “Time to go home with your dad’s.”

“Oh, no—I’m not, we’re not—” Jihoon starts, but the woman’s already transferring the kitten into his traitorously outstretched hands and Jihoon has no choice but to cradle it against his chest.

It's little paw has been bandaged neatly, and he's clearly been dosed with some kind of anaesthetic because his head wobbles unsteadily as Jihoon holds him, but he's been cleaned and groomed and looks remarkably better already. 

“Aw, you feeling better little buddy?” he coos at the kitten. The kitten looks up at him with huge eyes, mewling, and Jihoon can’t resist petting it lightly behind its tiny ears, revelling in its contented purr.

When he turns around, he finds Seungcheol standing there staring at him, something warm in his gaze that makes Jihoon break out in goosebumps. He feels himself blushing and Seungcheol laughs at that, because of course he notices.

“Just so you know, I don’t actually _like_ cats.” Jihoon feels the need to point out. Because he _doesn’t_. Although he’s about ten seconds away from calling dibs on _this_ particular kitten.

“Are you sure? Cause you look pretty happy right now.” Seungcheol dimples at him. Jihoon’s knees threaten to betray him. How had he not noticed those dimples the first-time round?

Jihoon becomes aware that he is staring at Seungcheol’s dimples like a lovesick teenager. He shakes himself, feeling a flush climbing up his neck and heating his cheeks, and holds the kitten out carefully for Seungcheol to take, “Just take him— _please_.”

Seungcheol grins and plucks the kitten out of Jihoon’s hands, then presses a generous kiss to the top of the little animal’s head. “I’m so happy you’re okay little guy.”

Jihoon studiously ignores the way his chest tightens at the sight.

“Ready to go, then?”

Seungcheol nods. “Sure. Lead the way.”

* * *

The crisp, cloudy morning has given way to a pleasantly bright afternoon, and with the increase in traffic the change in weather brings about, it takes considerably longer to drive back home than it had taken to drive to the clinic in the first place.

At first, the kitten is restless as the anaesthesia wears off, twisting and mewling in Seungcheol’s lap, unable to sit still. But eventually he falls asleep, which is probably for the best, all things considered.

“So… I take it you’re going to keep him?” Jihoon muses in the silent car.

Seungcheol looks down at the little ball of fur fondly, and pets a thumb over the tiny toe beans on its injured paw. “Oh yeah, definitely. I’m already in love.”

Jihoon firmly pretends his heart didn't skip a beat. _Traitor_. “Thought of a name for him yet?”

“Yep.” Seungcheol turns fully to him, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “I’m gonna name him _Jihoon_.”

Which is— _what_? Seriously, what the hell?

“Uhm, you do realise that’s my name, right.” Jihoon says, when he finally collects himself and manages to stop looking flabbergasted. He doesn't think he quite makes it into a question.

Seungcheol looks at him as if he is a particularly slow five-year-old child. “Uh huh.”

Jihoon is surprised enough by that that he doesn't even try to filter the next thing he says. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t call him after me!”

“Why not? I think it suits him.” Seungcheol says, picking the kitten up with both hands. And this _is_ ridiculous, he's the size of one of Seungcheol’s hands and he's picking it up with two and the kitten just looks ridiculous and small and _so very safe_ ….

Fuck! Jihoon is not equipped to handle this much fluff.

“But—but it’s _my_ name.” Jihoon flounders.

“Yeah, I know. And the resemblance is _uncanny_.” Seungcheol says, looking over at him, and his mouth looks somewhere between amused and...affectionate maybe? It's an amazing expression. Jihoon could take Seungcheol looking at him like that all the time.

“Where are you getting that from? He’s a kitten. A tiny kitten. Tiny kittens should _not_ be called Jihoon.” Jihoon says, gesturing to the ball of fur giving a microscopic yawn and rubbing his tiny face on Seungcheol’s neck, and _oh my god—look away, look away now—quickly before your heart fucking melts._

Jihoon diverts his gaze back to the road and sucks in a much needed breath, “Jihoon is not a cat name, okay. He should be called mittens, or fluffy, or sparkles or something.”

 _“Sparkles the cat.”_ Seungcheol echoes dryly. Possibly there is also some snickering involved, which Jihoon pointedly ignores.

“Look—I dunno. I just know he shouldn’t be called Jihoon.”

Seungcheol is, very obviously, not listening. “How about Jihoonie?”

“No.”

“Hoonie?”

“Nope.”

“Hoon-hoon?”

“Noo!”

“The Hooninator!”

“What? No.”

“Jihoom?”

Jihoon pulls a disapproving face. God, he hopes it’s disapproving. “No!”

“Ji?”

Jihoon snaps his head to the side to scowl at Seungcheol, “I get the feeling like you’re doing this just to annoy me.”

“I thought it would be nice to call him after the guy who saved his life.” Seungcheol says, voice pitched low, staring at the kitten napping on his chest, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “And you gotta admit, he’s pretty small and adorable— _like you_.”

Jihoon sputters, blinking wildly, almost certain that his brain is going to explode from the sheer volume of blood rushing to his face, “Oh my god—you are not calling him after me!”

* * *

Honestly, Jihoon expects that to be the end of it. He’s done his good deed for the year—the kitten’s safe and slowly recovering—and Seungcheol, despite how handsome he is, isn’t really the kind of guy he’d normally socialise with.

Not that Jihoon _does_ much socialising of course.

He’s never been terribly good at making—or, indeed, keeping friends outside of professional circles, but Seungcheol clearly has some kind of ex-con vibe going on that may prove him to be more trouble than he’s worth. So Jihoon tries not to be too disappointed when he doesn’t hear from him, and tries even harder not to pout when he doesn’t glimpse Seungcheol shirtless at his kitchen sink in the week that follows.

But then Saturday morning arrives again, and—just as Jihoon steps out of the shower and is struggling to decide if he has the energy to cook himself an actual breakfast, or if he’s simply going to eat burnt toast over a pile of music sheets again—there’s a knock at the door.

He opens it to find Seungcheol standing there, the kitten in his arms.

Well—not quite.

The kitten is sitting on a plush, velvet cushion, and _oh-god_ , it’s only been a week and Seungcheol’s already become one of those mad cat fanatics that buys velvet cushions for their cats to lounge on. He's probably getting a portrait of it commissioned too.

“Look—” Jihoon begins carefully, “I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m genuinely worried about you. A velvet cat cushion is one of those purchases that should really make you question your life choices.”

Seungcheol smothers a laugh, half-turning as if to hide it. “Yeah, I know. But I couldn’t resist. Only the best for my Jihoonie.”

Jihoon’s ears burn. He narrows his eyes at Seungcheol, unamused. “I resent that name choice.”

Seungcheol tips his head up defiantly, “Listen, we voted on it. It was a choice between Jihoon or Cutie Patootie, and in the end we all agreed he looked like you.”

Jihoon points a finger, as menacing as he can manage without an actual weapon in hand. “Who, may I ask, voted on it?”

That brings a roguish smile to Seungcheol’s face. “Me and Old Mrs Chan. It was unanimous.”

Frankly Jihoon suspects this is a big, fat lie. Mrs Chan is a nonagenarian who lives on the ground floor and is, as far as Jihoon is aware, _legally blind._

“I’m about five seconds away from slamming this door in your face, so you better quickly tell me what you’re here for.” Jihoon huffs, crossing his arms.

Seungcheol looks terribly embarrassed all of a sudden, even going as far as to shuffle his feet, “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to come join me for breakfast this morning. I—uhm, was gonna make pancakes and I thought it would be nice if you…. You don’t have to of course, but—”

“Will _Cutie Patootie_ be joining us?” Jihoon interrupts, pointing to the kitten.

“I dunno,” Seungcheol laughs, looking strangely relieved at having been cut off. He arches an eyebrow at Jihoon pointedly and says, “Will _you_?”

Jihoon is utterly, irrevocably charmed.

There’s a weird little flutter building in his stomach. He refuses to call it butterflies.

“Okay,” He's answering before he even realized he made a choice. He turns towards the closet, grabbing his hoodie off the coat hook. “Just so you know—I am _far_ from charmed.”

“Uh huh,” Seungcheol drawls, smirking. He lifts the cushion pointedly in Jihoon’s direction as the kitten yawns, and stretches his tiny arms, “You wanna hold my kitten, kitten?”

The words feel distinctly like a kick to the throat and Jihoon laughs to keep from choking. He can’t do much about the flush heating his cheeks unfortunately.

“Seriously.” He huffs, scooping the kitten up and gathering it close, “So not charmed.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Meant to be for Jicheol day, but I'm already working on a fic for Jicheol day so..  
> 2) The idea of biker thug Cheol, being soft and gentle with a tiny kitten...well that's enough to melt my heart, and I figured it would melt Jihoon's too.  
> Hope you enjoy!  
> Thank you for reading!


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